Page 9 of Villainous Intent

I knew it was the wrong thing to say the instant the words left my mouth. Volt’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, and his lips curled into a cold smile that made my stomach drop. Electricity crackled between his fingers.

“You know what, Keeper? Let’s see how well you⁠—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Volt was airborne. He sailed over the edge of the building with a startled yelp. The safety field caught him with a bright flash of blue light about twenty feet below the roofline, suspending him in mid-air.

I blinked and turned my head to find Cipher standing right beside me.

I had seen him in countless videos, but nothing had prepared me for the reality of his physical presence right next to me. I had to tilt my head back just to meet the blank expanse of his mask. His lips quirked and I’d never gotten wet so fast in my entire life, certainly not just because a man had smirked in my general direction.

“Apparently, he can’t fly.” None of the videos had captured his voice properly either. His voice was a smooth baritone with the perfect amount of huskiness.

Cipher leaned closer to me. I was trapped between the dizzying drop at my back and the solid wall of his chest.

“You should be more careful, Keeper Bishop,” he murmured, his voice caressing my name as it left his lips.

Oh shit, he knew who I was. Out of all the faceless Keepers shuffling paperwork in Chroma Bay, he knew my name. How the hell did he know who I was?

Beside me, Stephanie let out a strangled whimper. I forgotten her in the wake of his overwhelming gravity.

“Couldn’t you have done that when he first got here?” Menace asked. “That guy’s been a dick since the job in Westside.”

Cipher finally stepped back. He didn’t spare me a second glance as he turned his back and strolled over to rejoin Menace.

Right. Of course he hadn’t tossed Volt over the ledge to protect me. Menace had practically spelled it out. Volt had been a nuisance since some job they’d shared. Cipher hadn’t performed some grand, chivalrous rescue for the helpless Keeper. He simply possessed zero tolerance for irritation. It had been pest control, swatting away a buzzing gnat that had the audacity to ruin his peace and quiet.

I realized I was staring at the hypnotic shift of the muscles in his back and snapped my gaze forward.

I was so screwed. I now had actual data to supplement my embarrassingly detailed fantasies. The impossible breadth of his shoulders blocking out the sky. The subtle flex of his thighs beneath that suit when he shifted his weight. The timbre of his voice that was infinitely more delicious than I had ever imagined, vibrating right against my ear. My clit gave a throb, aching for the weight of him pinning me to whatever surface was available.

“Ms. Bishop?” Stephanie’s voice pitched up, tight with panic. “The match is starting.”

I blinked, forcing the fog of arousal out of my head. Work. I could do work. Work meant strict parameters and objective facts. Work meant not thinking about Cipher standing close enough to touch.

I slipped into Keeper mode, my fingers flying automatically across the surface of my tablet. I could do this on autopilot. Thank god, because my autopilot was currently the only part of my brain not consumed by the six-foot-six walking wet dream standing less than ten feet away.

Something cold and wet smacked against my cheek.

I flinched, my finger slipping on the data entry grid. Then another drop hit the center of my forehead, tracing a freezing path down the bridge of my nose.

I tilted my head back, glaring at the sky. The dark clouds had finally stopped brooding and decided to break open, adding a downpour to my already spectacular list of problems.

The fight below quickly moved skyward, with Dread and Obsidian trading blows above us. Ominous black shadows writhed around Dread’s hands and he unleashed a wave of energy that rippled through the air.

I braced myself as it washed over us, feeling absolutely nothing. Beside me, Stephanie gasped and clutched at her chest, her face contorting in momentary panic.

“It’s okay.” I placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Just breathe through it. The effect passes quickly.”

Her wide eyes found mine. “How are you not affected? That felt like my heart was being squeezed.”

I shrugged. “Experience.”

Another wave rippled across the rooftop. Stephanie flinched. I didn’t.

I turned back to my tablet before she could ask again.

A feeling of emptiness in my feet drew my attention from the match. The familiar pressure of the shoe anchors was gone. I glanced down, wiggling my toes experimentally. Nothing. No resistance, no secure connection to the building.

That was concerning.